Page 91 of Home in Nevada

I grin, my chest tightening. “I miss you.”

I’m the one who always says it first these days, but I don’t care. I’ve long since accepted that I’m a mess when it comes to Jamie.

“I know. I miss you too, Jeff.”

I sigh, running my fingers through my hair as I roll over on the bed to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about... stuff. Like, a lot of stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” Jamie’s voice dips with curiosity. “Like what?”

“Like... I want to be with you. All the fucking time. I don’t know what to do. I just want to be where you are. I wish I was glued to you. With like... hot glue, not that crappy Elmer’s glue that doesn’t stick to anything but paper. Hey, Jamie, you remember that kid in fourth grade who licked all the Elmer’s glue off his fingers? I wonder if he’s okay now.”

Jamie’s laughter breaks through the line, clear and bright. “Jeff… are you drunk?”

“Yeah,” I admit, biting back an embarrassing giggle. “Me and Lucy spent the day at that queer bar she loves. We got free drinks because she’s friends with the bartender—Justine, I think? She was pretty hot, but her nose looked kind of weird. Probably a botched nose job. I felt bad. It’s rough when your one flaw is smack in the middle of your face, you know? Anyway, she hooked us up. Some guy hit on me… He was like six-five or something, at least ten years older. I was afraid for my life. Spent the whole night running away from him. You would’ve gotten a kick out of it. I really wished you were there and—”

Jamie’s laughing so hard I finally stop mid-ramble, smirking at the ceiling.

“Dude, why are you laughing at me so hard?” I ask, unable to hide my grin.

“Jeff… You’re wasted. You’re cracking me up.”

I sigh dramatically, running my fingers through my hair. "I want to feel you so bad right now. I want to put my hands on you, Jamie.”

His laughter is contagious, and I find myself giggling again, which is absolutely mortifying.

"Oh, yeah? …Where?” he teases, his voice dropping a notch.

I hesitate, caught off guard by the question. I didn’t mean it like that—not entirely. I just want to hold him, lie next to him in bed like we did at the beach. I miss having him here. I just want him back.

“Where, Jeff?” Jamie asks again, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant.

I glance toward the bathroom door to make sure Lucy’s still in there before I whisper my answer into the phone.

Jamie laughs again, this time even louder. “Jeff… why are you whispering?”

“Lucy’s spending the night,” I explain, lowering my voice even more. “She’s still here.”

“Oh.”

“She’s in the bathroom right now,” I add, whispering like it’s a state secret. “Probably throwing up, so I’ve got a solid ten minutes before she comes out. I’ll check on her if she doesn’t come out in five. Gotta make sure she doesn’t pass out and crack her head on the toilet or something. I don't want her to have to suffer through a botched nose job.”

Jamie’s laugh is so loud I can’t help but smile. He’s totally laughing at me, but I don’t care. I’m mentally taking the credit anyway.

“Tell me more about what else you’d do,” he says, his voice playful but with that edge that makes my chest tighten all over again.

I’m talking to Jamie, completely unfiltered, letting things spill out that Sober-Long-Distance-Relationship-Jeff wouldn’tdreamof saying. I’m on a roll—really leaning into it, to the point where, yeah, I’m sporting a semi—when the bathroom door creaks open.

Lucy stumbles out like she’s just emerged from battle, her heels clacking unevenly against the floor, her mascara smudged to hell. She pauses in the doorway, squinting at me like I’ve personally offended her by existing.

I sit up immediately, slapping a pillow onto my lap like it’s a reflex. I scowl at her and turn toward the window, but she’s already glaring at me.

“I threw up,” she announces, dead serious, like it’s a major accomplishment.

“Great,” I mutter, trying to keep my focus on Jamie’s voice in my ear.

Lucy doesn’t budge. She leans against the doorframe and raises her voice. “Jeff, did you hear me?! I threw up!”

I whirl around, my irritation spilling over. “Oh, congratulations, Lucy! What the hell do you want me to do about it?!”

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